


In Darkness Lost

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos is gone on the anniversary of Tessa's death and Duncan attempts to deal with it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Darkness Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit adult content, male/male, slash, explicit language, moderate violence, DM/M, Jubie picture challenge response

Duncan rolled over in bed, his arm connecting with cool linen instead of the warmth of his lover's long hard body. He frowned and chewed at his bottom lip thoughtfully, his mind a hazy web of images and feelings, an annoying off-set from too little sleep and too much alcohol the night before.

His fingers brushed across the empty pillow lying next to his head and he breathed in deeply, needing to smell the scent of the missing man, needing the comfort of the other's presence -- needing something tangible to grab hold to. Something...and the fog began to clear away in his mind, leaving behind a collage of impressions and memories so close they threatened to reach out and touch him, to hold him tightly in their grasp, and choke him with their intensity.

Residual feelings poured through him and he stifled a gasp of pain as the last sharp-edged piece of reality slid neatly into place.

Today was.... He firmly clamped down on the thought, shutting his eyes tightly against the fragile vision in his mind. Taking slow deep breaths, he attempted to center his thoughts. Why did it still hurt so badly, he wondered. Ten years. It had been ten years since Tessa had been taken from him. Ten years ago that he had been so happy, engaged to the woman he loved more than his own life. Tessa. Richie. A family. Love.

_'You have love now. You have a family.'_

He held onto that thought for a moment, letting it settle in his mind as he caressed it lovingly, willing it to ease his pain. Methos. He envisioned his missing lover: the strong body, eyes that reflected an astute and mischievous mind, a playful smirk of an amazingly sensual mouth, hands--strong hands, sexy hands--that remade him every time they made love.

Yes, his lover--his absent lover who was now on the other side of the ocean teaching a week long seminar to a group of historians at the University of Paris. It wasn't like Methos hadn't wanted to be here today. He had tried diligently to get out of the seminar, but unfortunately, Dr. Pierson was the leading expert on the topic at hand and the arrangements had already been made. Originally the seminar had been scheduled the previous week, but a bad stroke of luck postponed events, putting his lover in Paris instead of home.

 _'When I needed him,'_ Duncan thought angrily. _'Dammit.'_

He threw the covers off and swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. _'Enough already!'_ he chided himself. It's been ten years. He had worked through the pain long ago, hadn't he? He was happy now. He loved Methos; he knew that with certainty.

Then why did it hurt so badly still? Why did he feel like he had a heavy weight pushing down on his chest when he thought of her? Why was his throat so tight it was threatening to restrict his airway? Was it because Methos wasn't there to share his grief? _'Nonsense,'_ he told himself angrily. The other man had been with him every day for two years, loving him, completing him in a way no one had ever done before...except Tessa.

He choked back a sob and stubbornly fought back the tears. He could get through this. For ten years he had held back the pain. He could do it for one more day. Methos would be home either tonight or early tomorrow. He would be all right. This too would pass.

A hot shower and steaming cup of coffee went a long way to clear his mind and ease his pain. He felt like himself again, in control. He just needed to let the feelings work through him and then he could bury them away, far from the surface where they couldn't crowd his mind, and where he wouldn't have to deal with them or feel their residual spikes of pain.

Maybe if he gave himself a few moments to deal with the memories he could put them away for another time. Maybe the pain would finally lessen then. Later. Later, when he was ready to deal with his feelings.

He sat down, setting his coffee mug on one of the coasters placed strategically across the coffee table. The man's smiling face on the coaster disappeared as he set his cup down, and he snorted with amusement at another of his lover's silly quirks. Methos had seen the actor on television. What was his name again? Adrian something-or-other? Duncan shook his head and sighed. For some reason Methos had gotten it into his head that Duncan and the actor shared an uncanny resemblance to one another and much to Duncan's chagrin, and despite his protests, had filled the loft with little replicas of the actor's face.

Methos. He thought of his lover's face and smiled.

Tessa...the thought floated across his consciousness and he repeated it into the air with a whispered breath. Tessa. The ache began to build again, a heavy pressure in his chest, squeezing his heart, choking him. He reached for a small wooden box and lifted the lid. Pictures of a beautiful blonde woman stared up at him, and he reached for them, feeling the weight of his grief crashing down.

* * *

Methos pulled up beside the dojo and parked, sighing with relief when he spotted Duncan's car. He had been worried about his lover all week, knowing today was the tenth anniversary of Tessa Noel's murder. It hadn't helped that Duncan hadn't answered any of Methos' calls, either from the airport or his cell on the way home.

He grabbed his bag from the trunk and hurried up the stairs two at a time, stilling momentarily to let the rich strum of his lover's presence wash over and through him as he reached for the door knob. He eased into the dojo and set his suitcase down against the nearest wall, a smile playing across his lips when he spotted Duncan across the polished wood floor.

Duncan was in the middle of a kata, his naked chest sweat soaked and heaving with exertion, his black gi pants caressing the tense muscles of his buttocks as he turned and kicked, his breaths labored in the otherwise quiet stillness of the room.

Methos found a chair and sat down, glad his arrival hadn't broken Duncan's concentration as he continued to move through the meditative dance. He watched Duncan move: his body strong and graceful, the shifting of muscles a work of art, his sweat covered skin glistening under the dimmed lights.

Methos felt his cock begin to fill and he hitched in a breath, certain the Scot would finish soon and they could begin celebrating his homecoming.

Methos looked at his watch and frowned. It had been over fifteen minutes and Duncan showed no signs of slowing down or finishing his kata. The other man was heaving, sweat dripping from his body onto the floor, seemingly unmindful that Methos was waiting for him across the room. The strain reflected in Duncan's muscles spoke of building fatigue, and Methos began to suspect that Duncan had been pushing himself for some time.

Knowing his lover as well as he did, it was easy to deduce that Duncan was using his work-out as a way to clear his mind, the fatigue as an answer to his internal turmoil. It was a method Duncan used often and quite effectively whenever he was feeling out of control or off-centered.

But there was something about Duncan's aura tonight, the way his presence strummed across the room with a discordant pulse that hinted at barely suppressed anger, of feelings he could no longer control.

Duncan suddenly stopped, his body completely still and tense, his eyes closed, his labored breaths the only sound against the oppressive silence permeating the room.

"Duncan...." Methos' voice sounded over-loud to his own ears and he took a step forward, halting uncertainly when Duncan turned to glare at him.

"Leave it be." Duncan growled between clenched teeth.

"No. I will not leave it," he snapped back, feeling his own temper rising in response. _'Damn stubborn Scot.'_ Duncan turned away from him once again and he reached out to grasp his arm. "Duncan...."

The punch came out of nowhere, blinding him with pain as he hit the floor with a heavy thud. _'Christ, what the fuck was that?'_ He worked his jaw, grimacing as he spit out bloody sputum and pushed up to his knees to stand.

Duncan had turned and walked determinedly away, seemingly uncaring about the fact that he had just landed his lover on his ass.

Methos hesitated for the moment it would take his jaw to heal and silently watched Duncan lean against the punching bag. Duncan had pushed himself to his limits. It was evident in the fine tremors in his extremities and the tensed muscles in his back and shoulders as he pressed his forehead against the cool leather.

 _'Was it enough, love?'_ Methos pushed up the sleeves to his sweater and went resolutely to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling him stiffen in response.

"Duncan, I'm here. Let me help you."

This time he was ready when Duncan turned, his fist doubled, and swinging toward Methos' face. Methos ducked and delivered his own blow to the other man's unprotected abdomen. Duncan grunted and punched back, this time connecting with his Methos' nose.

Blood spewed from Methos' nose across Duncan's hand and he cursed as the pain lanced through his face. _'Fuck this!'_ He delivered an upper-cut to Duncan's jaw, felt the crunch of crumbling bone, and smiled ferally until a square fist crashed into his mouth.

Their fists were flying fast and furious, connecting with blinding accuracy. Both men's faces were bruised and swollen, blood dripping from their noses and mouths. Methos slammed his fist into Duncan's face once again and dropped to one knee, his breaths coming hard and staggered against the pain in his chest. _'That crazy bastard broke some ribs,'_ Methos thought and cursed out loud.

Duncan wasn't in any better shape as he attempted to deliver another blow, and stumbled instead, falling to his knees next to his partner. Duncan grabbed Methos' shoulder with a strong grip and pulled back his fist with the other, then stopped, frozen as he stared into his lover's face.

Methos tensed and prepared to ward off the coming strike, then went completely still when he saw the tears well in his lover's eyes. Time hung between them, suspended, the moment broken only by the raspy sound of their labored breathing. A heartbeat. Two. And Duncan deflated in front of him in a sudden gush of torment.

Duncan fell into his arms and held on, his whole body shaking with the gut wrenching sobs he could no longer hold back. Methos hugged him tightly and rubbed his back, unmindful of the perspiration rolling down the smooth muscles as he reached up and slid his hand under his lover's damp hair and massaged his neck.

He murmured soothing words against the continuing sobs, words he knew the other man didn't hear, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was here now and Duncan had finally allowed himself to feel the pain of Tessa's death, to let it work through him and accept it.

It seemed like forever before the sobs began to subside as they held on to one another, locked together knee to knee, chest to chest, Duncan's head burrowed against Methos' shoulder.

"Methos..." His name came out as a sob and Methos shushed him immediately with a gentle caress through his hair.

"It's all right, Duncan. I'm here, love. I will help you through this." He felt Duncan nod under his hand and continued to caress his lover's head until he felt movement as Duncan attempted to pull away.

"I'm sorry." Duncan's voice was strained and rough from crying and he turned away to swipe away his residual tears.

"Duncan," Methos reached for his lover's hand and pulled him towards him. "Look at me."

Red rimmed, swollen eyes locked with his own and he reached up to caress Duncan's jaw. Thanks to Immortal healing, Duncan's face was no longer swollen and bruised, however, even their extraordinary healing powers couldn't remove the traces of blood and tears that marred Duncan's usually handsome face.

Methos pushed back Duncan's hair from his eyes and caressed his cheek. "Trite as it is, it is still true. Love means never having to say you're sorry."

He was gratified when a small grin escaped his lover's lips. "Love Story, Methos?"

Methos shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

Duncan snorted, and he grinned, knowing the moment was now broken. With considerable effort, they both rose, hanging on to one another for support.

Pulling apart, they stepped into the lift and rode up to the loft in silence. When they entered the loft, Duncan turned to him, his eyes full of sorrow as he surveyed the blood and gore on his lover's face.

"Come on." Methos took him by the arm, forestalling his words, and led him to the bathroom.

The hot water in the shower enveloped them in a comforting caress. Methos knew Duncan needed this time to assimilate his feelings, and he stepped under the spray to wash the shampoo from his hair. What was it about the small space of a shower stall, the hot water on his body, that felt so comforting? Was it true that psychologically it resembled the security of a mother's womb?

They stepped out together and toweled off, then walked naked back to their bedroom. Duncan pulled back the comforter and turned to him with sad eyes.

"Methos, I know what you said. But, I'm so sorry." He looked down in embarrassment, the words a husky whisper between them.

Methos took Duncan's hand and pulled him into bed. Wrapping his arms around Duncan's torso, he held him tightly until Duncan settled against him with his head on Methos' chest. "Better. I'm not up to getting chilled after all that. Duncan, I know what today is. I'm just so sorry I couldn't have been here earlier for you. You needed to work it out. You've never allowed yourself to really feel the pain and work through it before."

"I thought I had."

Methos heard the softly spoken words and smiled. "Why, because you cried? I know you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

Methos heard a grunt and smiled more broadly. "You were trying to be strong. Richie had just come back as an Immortal, you had to sell the antique business and you had to take care of Tessa's funeral. You can't tell me that you let yourself break down. That you weren't holding yourself in check every minute to stay strong."

"Maybe. I don't know. I couldn't afford to break down. I had to take care of things. Dammit, Methos. I did what I had to do." Duncan's voice rose without anger and Methos felt rather than saw his scowl.

He stroked Duncan's arm soothingly. "Yes, I know you did. You took care of everything and everyone you had to. Everyone except yourself. But I'm here now. You don't have to take care of everything. Let me take some of that heavy load from you, Duncan. Let me be there for you."

"I...." Duncan paused and turned his head to place a kiss on Methos' chest. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

"You're welcome. Come here." Methos pulled Duncan up until he could kiss his lips.

The kiss was soft and tender: a meeting of lips and tongue, an affirmation they both needed, void of intense passion, instead an oral caress offering love and acceptance and caring.

Methos pulled away gently and studied his lover's face. Duncan MacLeod was one of the strongest men he knew and usually the sight of him stirred his body into a passionate need. But right now the man needed so much more. He needed his love and his acceptance. He needed to feel he was safe to grieve and accept his own feelings.

Methos rolled them until Duncan was lying underneath. He took his mouth in another kiss, this one more intense as he stroked inside his lover's mouth, across his tongue, tasting a slight bitter tang reminiscent of the Scotch Duncan liked to drink. He pulled away from his mouth and trailed a line of kisses down Duncan's jaw to his neck.

He explored his lover's neck fully, his lips a-light on the tender flesh as he bit and licked until he reached the other man's Adam's apple. He sucked on it lightly, smiling against Duncan's skin when he felt it bob under his lips. He continued a path down to Duncan's chest, his hands already mapping out their course as his mouth stopped to kiss and lick.

He caressed nipples that budded and tightened under his fingertips. Duncan moaned and lifted his hips to rub his groin against Methos' body. He felt the hard length of Duncan's cock press against him, and shifted slightly to let his own hardness press against the sheets between Duncan's outstretched legs.

His fingertips threaded through silky chest hair down to a flat abdomen, his lips trailing behind, kissing the body he treasured beyond all reason. He ignored the throbbing erection that bobbed in front of his face as he neared Duncan's groin, instead moving steadily downward to lick at the smooth skin of the perineum and down to the anus.

Duncan pulled his knees up to his chest and heaved in a deep breath. Methos heard his lover groan and felt his cock harden even more and pulse in response. He pressed against the mattress and undulated his hips slowly until he had enough friction to answer the throbbing pressure between his legs.

Continuing to thrust slowly against the silk covered mattress, he ducked his head until he could reach his lover's anus with his tongue. He held onto Duncan's hips and began to swipe at the tiny hole, feeling the puckered opening quiver under his probing tongue. Over and over he licked and sucked, savoring the moans he heard from overhead until the pulsing need in his own cock propelled him away in search of lube.

He reached into the bedside table and pulled out a bottle, flipping it open quickly to pour a generous amount of lubricant into the palm of his hand. Duncan was writhing under him, watching him from under half closed lids as Methos spread the silky liquid over his cock.

Reaching down with a slick finger, he pressed inside Duncan's anus, the other man bearing down so he could slip insde easily. He gently stimulated the hot channel, easing his finger in and out until Duncan was begging between gritted teeth.

"Please, Methos. I can't...."

"What, love?" He was breathless to his own ears. "You can't wait to feel me inside you, hard and hot... taking you?" He closed his eyes, his own husky words inflaming his arousal.

"God yes." Duncan lifted his hips in response and clenched his ass around Methos' finger.

"Christ, Duncan." Methos pulled out his finger and pressed his cock against his lover's entrance. He eased in slowly until he was fully sheathed. The heat from his lover's body encased him lovingly and he moaned with pleasure. Duncan's body was like a velvet glove closing around him, stroking every pulsing nerve ending until he felt like he would explode.

He began moving slowly, deliciously, setting up a rhythm that would bring them the release they both craved. He leaned forward and grasped Duncan's legs and brought them up to lie across his shoulders, then grasped the headboard to support his upper body as he began to move in and out, faster and harder, stroking across his lover's gland with every pass.

The pressure was building, fast, too damn fast, yet he couldn't stop, couldn't slow down. Duncan was rocking underneath him, words of lust and need escaping his mouth as each thrust brought him closer to climax.

Then Methos was right there, right on the cusp. He tensed, his muscles locked in that split second before orgasm claimed him. He gripped the headboard tighter, with Duncan's body hard and tense beneath him, and he let go, feeling the flood of release as he came, pulsing with each wave until he was left spent and shivering.

He slid Duncan's legs from his shoulders and fell forward across his lover's body. They rolled together until he was lying on his side with Duncan wrapped around him. Duncan was stroking his back tenderly and he felt him smile.

Yes, this was right, for each of them to give and receive. Never again to have to face grief alone or face the loneliness and pain of loss. Together they were loved and cherished, connected in a way he never thought possible.

 

~Finis~


End file.
